Around the Campfire
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: It a tradition - telling ghost stories around a campfire. Now Napoleon is wishing he hadn't said a word. A Mouth of Babes story


The darkness was starting to encroach upon the campsite, but the campfire crackled merrily and the air was filled with laughter and song. The gloom was kept at bay by warmth and happiness.

"That was a good one. Sing another song, Poppy!" Irina said, waving her hands around her head to keep the mosquitoes at bay. She was sitting between her parents on the large log and swinging her feet. As the singing stopped, the air was filled with the sound of frogs croaking and crickets chirping. "Those things sure are loud."

"They are calling to each other and looking for a mate." Illya flexed his hand to relieve the cramp in his fingers. "That's how they find each other."

"Why don't they use a dating service or go on Love Connection?"

"Napoleon, I believe this is your cue." Illya suppressed his smile, but then Peter spoke up.

"Do you know anything with a tractor in it, Poppy? Or food?" Peter mumbled through his mouthful. He divided his attention between the fire and the S'mores. As fascinating as it was to sit this close to the fire, the white puffy blobs smooshed between graham crackers and chocolate were more so. His fingers and face were sticky with the treat and that made the boy very happy indeed.

"Shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Inessa, Peter's twin, chastised her brother lightly without taking her eyes off the flames. She was transfixed as sap snapped and popped, sending sparks up into the air.

Lisle coughed and fanned the air. "What I want to know is how the smoke always finds me."

"It follows beauty, sweetheart ,and you are the most beautiful one here." Leon picked up a piece of bark and helped fan the smoke away from her.

"I have pinecones in my hair, I haven't had a bath in two days, and I smell like smoke. I see nothing beautiful in that."

"You aren't looking with my eyes." Leon reached around Irina and tickled his wife's ribs. Lisle giggled and tried to hide behind her daughter.

"Save me, Irina! It's the Tickle Monster!" Irina showed the better part of valor and slipped from the log. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to protect me?"

"Sorry, Mommy, but all that marshmallow stuff has made me thirsty."

Alex groaned from his spot next to the fire. "You know, other kids don't have parents who get mushy all the time."

"What do they have?" Lisle slapped Leon's hand away.

"Divorces mostly. Poppy, do you know any rock n' roll?"

Napoleon looked over to where his partner was flexing his hands and then back at his grandson. "I think Poppy is sung out for the moment." He jiggled his knee and Ginny squealed happily.

"Go, pony!" she demanded, slapping her grandfather's thigh with her good hand while Napoleon kept her balanced. "More! Go faster!"

"I think Pony is about done as well," Napoleon said, blowing a raspberry in the crook of her neck. "He's probably run the Kentucky Derby by now."

Alex offered his baby sister a marshmallow and she took it, squishing it happily in her fingers and then twisted to offer the gooey handful to Napoleon. "Here, Gampy pony!"

"Yuck," the boy muttered and stuffed another marshmallow onto the stick. He was the official toaster of the sticky treat and he took his role seriously. Poppy had instructed him on how to keep the marshmallow from burning.

"And this is why we packed so many washcloths," Leon said, watching as Lisle got to her feet and went to retrieve something to clean off sticky fingers and mouths. He tipped his head back to look at the stars. "There's the Big Scooper Upper. " He pointed up into the night sky. "And right beside that is The Large Bucket and over there is the Office Clown who will get a face full of water if he doesn't stop telling stupid jokes."

"Daddy, those aren't really their names," Inessa scolded, her eyes never leaving the fire.

"Tough crowd." Leon hoisted Ginny off his father's lap and evaded the waving hands. "You are a wiggle monkey, Ginny, sit still and let Mommy wash off your hands." He looked at his wife. "Maybe the cloth needs rinsing out."

Lisle spun and wiped his mouth and face with it. "What do you think?"

"Ptooey, it could use better-tasting lint. Your turn now, Ginny!" She pulled away as the two adults struggled to get her cleaned up.

Irina had gone to sit beside Illya and watch him softly strum the guitar. "Poppy, can you teach me how to play?" she asked softly.

"Of course, if you want to learn. Come here." He waited for her to come and sit in his lap. "Hold your fingers like this." He helped her fingers find a chord. "That's a C chord and this is a G."

"My hands don't stretch as good as yours."

"That's because they are bigger. Yours will grow in time. If you are serious, I will let you borrow one of my other guitars when we get back home."

"We're not going home yet, are we?" Peter suddenly looked worried. "I thought we was going…

"Were going," Lisle corrected as she finished wiping Ginny's mouth and fingers.

"Were going fishin' tomorrow. I ain't never been fishing."

"Peter, your grammar."

"I'm on vacation, Mommy!" Peter looked hopefully at his grandfather. "Is it time yet, Grampy?" He'd been promised the opportunity to put the next log onto the fire.

"Yes, I think it's just about time." Napoleon rose and brushed off the seat of his pants. He walked to the wood pile, Peter on his heels. "Which one looks good to you?"

"Speaking of time, do you realize it's only seven thirty? It's seems to get darker earlier out here." Lisle used the washcloth to wipe off her own hands. "Guess it's because there's no light pollution. Just us and the stars…"

"And the critters," Leon finished. "Alex, are you about done toasting marshmallows?"

The boy took a few from the bag and then closed it with a twist tie and tossed it to his father. Leon put it into the food safe on the campsite.

"Our food will be okay in there, won't it Dad?" Peter had been concerned since they'd been warned to keep all food items stored away from animals in the provided food safe. He paused now in his search for the perfect log to study his father's actions, as if branding them upon his mind. "That thing looks pretty flimsy."

"Not to worry, Peter. Breakfast is safe. Besides after what you packed way for dinner tonight, I couldn't imagine you wanting to eat for the next week. Five hotdogs, Peter."

"Poppy had six." Peter felt duty bound to point out.

"Poppy has a hundred pounds and three feet on you!"

"But what if a bear comes by?"

"There aren't any bears. They were talking about raccoons and squirrels." Leon stopped by the small Coleman stove. "Does anyone want more coffee?"

"I could use some." Illya said, his attention on the guitar and Irina's fingers. Illya lifted the neck strap off and slipped it over Irina's head. "Here, you take it and try."

Napoleon helped Peter get the log to the fire pit as Alex sat back to avoid the flurry of sparks as they rose into the night. Inessa clapped her hands.

"Look at them go! They are like fire flies, but you can't catch 'em!" She twisted her sweatshirt collar closed to make sure none tried to creep down her shirt.

Once Napoleon was satisfied with the placement of the log, he walked back to his canvas chair and settled into it, shivering slightly. Away from the fire, the night air was cold.

Leon carried a cup to Illya and held it out. Illya took it and wrapped his hands around it.

"You know what we need now? A good old fashioned ghost story, that's what!"

"No way, Dad, you'll have the kids up all night," Lisle scolded him.

"But Lisle, that's what camping is all about."

"Please, Mom, I won't get scared!" Alex promised. "'Sides, if a monster came into a camp, Irina would just paint his toenails and braid his hair."

"You'd scare him away with your singing," Irina snapped, pausing in her strumming. "And the yowling you'd hear would be him running away holding his hands over his ears."

"I sing good."

"So does Chewy! Ah ooo," Irina said, handing the guitar back to her grandfather.

"I oughta smack you," Alex threatened.

"You do and I'll hit you back."

"There will be no hitting!" Lisle commanded. "Any nightmares and they are sleeping in your tent!" She shook her finger at Napoleon.

"I can live with that. Besides, Illya's snoring scares everything bad off."

"I'm just sitting here and you insult me." Illya drained his cup. "I should go to bed."

"No, you should tell us a ghost story," Napoleon said, retrieved the coffee pot from the stove and refilled his cup.

"Why me?"

"Because, partner, it runs in your blood."

"Please, Poppy," Alex pleaded, his marshmallow roasting forgotten.

"Your mother -"

"Is fine with it," Leon finished. "Come on, boss, let's hear something scary." He gave Ginny a tickle and the girl squealed loudly. Alex's hands flew to his ears and Irina winced. Even the twins jumped at the noise. "Now, there are no monsters within a hundred mile radius. Let's hear a story."

Illya shook his head slowly and cleared his throat. "Very well, if you are certain. When I was a young student back in Cambridge, I had the pleasure of meeting a young man called, for the purpose of this story, Calloway. He was a third year music student and I was working on my PhD. As you might guess, rarely did our paths cross. I would see him, usually on Sundays when I attended a music recital. We knew each other enough to nod in passing."

"When's the monster coming?" Inessa had moved around the fire to seek out her Grampy's arms.

"Be quiet, Nessa," Alex scolded. "You're ruining the suspension."

"Suspense and this is all exposition, the background, if you will." Illya moved his canvas chair closer to the fire, away from the smoke.

"It follows good looks, I'm just saying," Napoleon joked and Illya smiled.

"Anyhow, one morning I am having breakfast with a fellow math student when Calloway comes staggering into the room, looking as if he'd not had a good night sleep in a long time. My companion immediately picked up on it.

"You look exhausted."

"I am. Haven't slept in a week."

"Finals?"

"No, some jerk is messing about out my window. Every night it's the same thing. I go to bed, turn off the light and something starts scratching the glass."

"A branch," I suggested and Calloway wearily shook his head.

"No trees anywhere near my window and it stops whenever I turn the light on. I've taken to leaving it on just to get a little sleep." He yawned.

"I know what it is," my friend suddenly said. "It's the Conley Vampire."

"The what?"

"You are in one of the rooms over by St. Mary's – the ones that overlook the cemetery?"

"You had dorm rooms that overlooked a cemetery?" Alex was very excited. "That would be so cool. Dad, I want to go to Cambridge!"

"Alex," Lisle shushed him. "Let your grandfather tell his story."

"But, Mom, a graveyard!"

"Calloway allowed as he wasn't the superstitious sort. Those rooms had a bad reputation around the school and in spite of the fact that they were large, unusually airy and dirt cheap, they usually stood empty. Calloway left us then, going to find some coffee. Later that afternoon, I was walking through one of the buildings and I heard Calloway shouting that he'd wish everyone would just shut up about the vampire. He nearly came to blows with a likeable chap from the English department before he stormed past me, glaring.

"I got the impression that he might have thought that I'd been the one spreading the rumor, but it wasn't me. Still, I wanted to reassure him of that and that afternoon found myself in the hallway in front of his rooms, thankful that he wasn't sporting his oak."

"Sporting his oak? Poppy, that sounds sort of stupid." Peter was pulling apart an unroasted marshmallow and tossing bits into the fire.

"It means his door wasn't shut. That would mean he didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. I called to him and he invited me in. The rooms were lovely and twice the size of any I'd seen. When I assured him it wasn't me," he replied, "That was never a fear. It's that idiot in my Baroque music class. He's got monsters up his… nose. I suspect it's some of the local boys, giving me a bad time."

I assured him that it was probably just that. I'd walked around the building on my way in. Two large windows looked out over the cemetery. It sort of sloped away from the building, but the gravestones were very visible. I checked the ground as I passed. The dirt outside Calloway's window had been recently turned for planting and there were no footprints in it. I rather doubted his local boys theory, but there was nothing within range that would scratch the panes."

Illya stopped and waited as Leon carried Ginny to her small cot within the tent. A few minutes later, he popped back out, pulling on a gray sweatshirt.

"I'm back," he said softly. Lisle moved a bit closer and Leon slipped an arm around her, kissing her cheek.

"Calloway again repeated his theory and, assured that he didn't think me a loose lipped security risk, I returned to my own studies. A few weeks later, I happened to see him at a choir recital and he was looking more well-rested than before. Apparently, whoever it was got tired and gave up. As time and luck would have it, I didn't see him again until after All Hallows Eve.

"What's that?" Peter wiped his hands on his shirt and reached for another puffy victim.

"Halloween," Irina answered. "We learned that in school."

"Your sister is right. It was the morning after and some students came up to me and asked if I'd heard the news. Calloway had been attacked during the night and they'd taken him, raving mad, away in a straightjacket. I had a hard time reconciling the man I knew with the image they presented."

"What did you do, Poppy?" Alex was sitting much closer to Napoleon and Illya smiled at him.

"Well, I made some inquiries and found out what hospital he'd been taken to and whether or not I could see him. I was told that after three that afternoon would be fine. I bought some grapes…"

"Grapes? No get well card or candy?" Inessa looked puzzled. "Why grapes?"

"That's what you do in England. I have no idea why. If we'd been in the Soviet Union, I would have brought him dessert, flowers, or wine. You learn to adapt to the country you are in."

"Was he okay, Poppy?" Irina's face was marked with sorrow and worry.

"Well, he was very pale and he had one of his arms bandaged. He looked very scared and even more confused. He thanked me for the grapes and asked if I'd sit down."

"What did the police say happened to him?" Leon asked. "Was he attacked?"

"He was, although the identity of the attacker would always be a mystery."

"Why was that?" Lisle suddenly noticed that three of her four older children were crowding around her. _They are sleeping with you,_ she mouthed to Napoleon.

"The story he told, well, let's just say the incident had made a believer out of him."

"What did he say?" Napoleon asked and Illya grinned, obviously amused that Napoleon was as suckered into the story as the children were. Illya winked at his partner and motioned everyone closer.

"This is what he told me." Illya paused and looked around. "I was sitting at my desk with all the lights off except the one I was using. That's when I heard the scratching again. Knowing that it was All Hallows Eve, I knew it had to be some of the locals giving me a bad time. I decided to put a stop to it once and for all.

"As I approached the window, the scratching became more frantic and I was honestly afraid that the glass would break from the efforts without. I could see a shape, dimly lit by the moon, and was struck by how thin he was. As I drew nearer, I could head a sound, a combination of a moan and mewing, like a kitten would make. It both fascinated and repulsed me, but I was transfixed.

"With a start, I realized that my hand was reaching out for the latch. I tried to control it, but my will was not my own. I fought so hard that my hand trembled as it unlocked the latch and the window opened. Suddenly a hand, no, not a hand for the fingers were long and tipped with talon-like nails, grabbed my wrist. The pain was incredible and impulsively I looked from my wrist to the owner of that hand. His eyes were blazing with reflected light from my lamp and the mouth was twisted back, revealing long, teeth that looked like fangs." Illya paused for a breath and then leaned forward, one arm around Napoleon's neck, then other around Alex's.

"I'm not ashamed to say that I shrieked at the sight and that was my salvation. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, looking up at my housemates. I stammered out a tale of being attacked and they were after it."

"What was it, Poppy?" Irina was looking nervously over her shoulder.

"They never did figure it out. They searched the grounds for a good fortnight and never found a trace of the attacker."

"What about Calloway?" Lisle half whispered.

"The doctors recommend that he take a holiday to the south of France. He followed that advice and never returned to Cambridge to complete his studies. He carried the scars of the attack for a very long time."

"What were they, Poppy?" Alex's voice was hushed.

"Around his wrist, there were five distinct marks, where the fingernails had dug in, for you see, even though the attacker was never found, we knew that he was none other than the Conley Vampire. And, whenever Calloway began to doubt his sanity about that night, all he had to do was look at his wrist and know the truth." Illya suddenly flipped back his wristwatch and his grandchildren gasped as the thick band of scar tissue hidden beneath it.

With a shriek, Alex was off, closely followed by Irina, Peter and Inessa – all of the dashing to the safety of their tent.

"You are so going to pay for that, Dad," Lisle threatened. "Those look like rope scars to me."

"That's what they are, but I figured a little visual wouldn't hurt."

"That what you think." Leon looked over at the tent and shook his head. "You are going to suffer for it tonight. Great story, by the way."

"Thanks, but I can only take credit for retelling it. Ron Seth wrote it."

"I think it is time for all of us to turn in. Sleep well, you two." Lisle kissed her father first and then Napoleon. "I think you are going to need all the luck you can get tonight.

"Famous last words," Napoleon muttered, draped an arm over his eyes to block out the lantern light. "It really is okay if we shut off the lights, guys. Poppy will protect you."

"Me? What about you?" Illya protested from his cot. "Why don't you protect them? You were the one who wanted the story. Your grandfather is right, though. Let's turn off the light."

"But the vampire will come scratchin'," Peter protested. His face peeked out from his sleeping bag.

"He takes one whiff of you four and he'll go looking for something fresher. When did you last take a bath?"

"Grampy, we're camping!" Alex protested. "You don't go around taking baths."

"Forgive me for preferring to be groomed," Napoleon muttered. "Listen, we need to get some sleep. I am turning off the lights."

"Okay," Irina's voice was muffled as she snuggled closer to her brother. For his part, Alex didn't seem to care. He simply pulled her closer.

Inessa had crawled into Illya's sleeping bag and refused to leave, so he'd zipped her inside with him and attempted to avoid her jittery arms and legs. "Inessa, you need to be still or I'm going to toss you out."

Peter had rolled his sleeping bag up into a protective ball and was half underneath Napoleon's cot.

"Guys, it was just a story. There's no such thing as vampires." Napoleon turned off the light and settled back.

For a long time, there was just the whisper of the breeze through the trees and Napoleon slipped into a long-anticipated doze.

"Grampy, Grampy!" The voice was urgent in his ear and Napoleon did all her could not to jump. "Alex? What's wrong?"

"Listen!"

Close to the front of the tent, there was a soft scratching, like nails on the canvas. Irina was moaning with fear and Inessa was crying softly while huddled against Illya's chest.

"Illya?"

"It's nothing. See? If it was a vampire, you'd be able to see the shape of a…" A shadow passed in front of the tent and then grew more and more pronounced as it drew closer. "_Дерьмо,_" Illya swore and pulled Inessa closer.

The shadow stopped in front of the tent opening. The sound of a zipper being worked seemed to suck the air from the tent.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" Leon asked, sticking his head into the tent. There were screams and he caught a pillow in the face.

"What the hell are you trying to prove?" Illya shouted and the younger man looked taken aback. Illya turned on the lantern to reveal the mass of terrified children who were clinging to each man.

"Sorry, Illya, but there was a raccoon trying to get in. I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Son, you about scared the life out of us." Napoleon held a hand to his chest and slowed his breathing. He caressed Irina's head and smiled. "A raccoon, you say?"

"I'm guessing someone took a snack with him… Peter?"

"Just the marshmallows," he whimpered and held out the sticky wad of dirt-covered treats. "I didn't think that ole raccoon could smell 'em in here. I was keeping them safe."

"Well, he could, so let me have them." Leon held out his hand and winced at the blob was deposited into it. "Yuck, he's welcomed to this. Now get some sleep. It'll be dawn soon and those fish will wait for no man."

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle down and Illya turned off the light. Gradually, the nervous shifting grew quieter.

"Napoleon?"

"Yes, partner?"

"If you ever suggest me telling a ghost story again -"

"Don't let him, Grampy," Irina finished. Napoleon reached out and gave the thin shoulder a squeeze.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I think we've all learned our lesson."

There was a giggle in the dark.

"Peter, go to sleep," Illya ordered.

"Poppy said a naughty word."

"Poppy will say even more naughty words if you don't go to sleep," Illya promised.

"Hey, Illya?"

"Yes?"

"Tell us a story...?" It was to Napoleon's credit that he eluded everything except Illya's pillow.

_Visit from a Vampire_ by Ronald Seth. From the collection: _Fifty Great Ghost Stories_, edited by John Canning, June 1973


End file.
